


Come Crashing Down

by altehst



Series: Age Switch AU [4]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Canon-Typical Violence, Dubious Chemistry, Dubious Pharmacology, Dubious Science, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I made some stuff up okay, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Violence, Yet that is also canon-typical, see inside for more detailed warnings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-19
Updated: 2019-06-26
Packaged: 2020-04-23 21:32:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19159387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/altehst/pseuds/altehst
Summary: Bruce is dosed by Ivy on a routine patrol with Tim. At first it appears to be nothing more than a sedative, but, as Tim soon discovers, something’s definitely wrong.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: implied/referenced past child abuse and some scenes of child abuse. Nothing overly graphic, mostly canon-typical violence if that (some of the comics are DARK from what I've seen), and absolutely nothing sexual, though.
> 
> Reading the other story in the series is not required but it might help you understand more about what's going on about the ages of Damian and Tim. Basically, Tim was still Robin after Jason, but Damian's older than him. Damian is Robin and Tim is Red Robin.
> 
> Ages:
> 
> Dick: 24ish
> 
> Jason: 20
> 
> Damian: 17
> 
> Tim: 16

Tim knew this day would come- he's outstayed his welcome, he's messed up one time too many, he's disappointed Bruce for the last time.

He had just hoped the months leading up to Bruce's inevitable casting out of him from the family wouldn't be so painful. 

And now they're here, with Tim pinned to the wall of the Cave with one of Bruce's hands around his throat and the other pulled back, ready to deliver a punch that Tim's sure will hurt him a lot more than it will hurt Bruce. Tim's bare feet dangle above the ground, a jarring and not-too-comforting reminder of exactly how much smaller he is than Bruce, and both his hands scrabble at Bruce's gauntleted one, both trying to escape the hold and provide some measure of relief so that he isn't being held entirely aloft by his throat alone. 

* * *

It starts innocently enough. A routine fight with Ivy, just Batman and Red Robin, because Damian was out with a cold and staying at Jason's apartment as Dick was working on finding a place in the city because he was in the process of moving back to Gotham, and all three older boys working a different patrol route. Alfred's on his annual vacation to England, so he's off the comms.

Bruce and Tim are trading blows and are well on their way to taking Ivy down when she flings a small vial at Batman that explodes as soon as it hit his chest. He drops to the ground instantly, obviously unconscious. 

Tim is by him in a heartbeat. He snarls up at Ivy as she walks closer, stopping her a few feet away from the pair. Tim's confident he can defend them from her, but he doesn't want to leave Bruce without an analyzation of what he had been hit with for the time it'll take to beat Ivy.

To his surprise, she simply looks at him, glances around with a raised eyebrow, then smiles. "I was hoping for more, but this will be good enough. Good luck, little bird."

Tim watches as she walks out of sight. There's no time to dwell on her words as he thumbs the control to call the Batmobile to their position.

As soon as the car arrives, Tim loads Bruce- with a lot of difficulty, to be sure, but he manages- into the passenger seat and plants himself in front of the steering wheel. He hits autopilot and turns back to Bruce, anxiously monitoring his vitals. Once they get back to the Cave, Bruce has regained consciousness and helped Tim perform the necessary tests. Something's out of place in Bruce's bloodstream, but Bruce decides it's just the remnants of the sedative. 

When Tim raises a concern, Bruce snaps at him that he should've been in bed an hour ago. 

Tim doesn't point out that he's been helping Bruce, that he has a legitimate reason to be up, that he's  _emancipated_ , and instead murmurs a "Goodnight," and heads upstairs. He'll stay here tonight. Bruce is probably just on edge from knowing that he'd been taken out, leaving Tim to both take down Ivy and defend the fallen man by himself, and there's no point antagonizing Bruce for no reason. 

Bruce is definitely just on edge. Right?

Wrong.

Over the next few days, Bruce's behavior escalates rapidly. Whenever they're alone, Bruce finds a reason to yell at Tim, to tell him something he's done wrong. The teen's offenses steadily grow smaller and smaller- two days after the attack, Bruce verbally dissects Tim's apparent laziness, complacency, and incompetency when Tim falls asleep at the Computer after a long patrol.

Strangely enough, Tim's only reprieve seems to be on patrol when they run into the other Bats. Damian's still staying at Jason's- something about Jason being the only one that can cook while Alfred's away, so they don't see them for very long, but Tim can't help but notice how much more relaxed Bruce seems around his other children.

And then they're alone again, and Tim wants his older brothers to come back so that he won't get yelled at as much.

It's gotten to the point where Tim's wondering if it can possibly get any worse. 

And then it does. 

Six days after Ivy knocks Bruce out, Tim can't figure out where a string of evidence on one of his cases might be leading. It's been a long day, between finishing high school a few years early and thus being in classes with students years older than him, and the amount of paperwork he's been doing lately for WE, because, even though Bruce is back, Tim still takes care of a large amount of the work, he decides to ask Bruce for help. 

Is it the smartest decision, given how tense Bruce has been lately? Nope. But maybe it's some misplaced sense of stupid bravery from hanging out with Jason, or a hope that Bruce will take the request for help as an olive branch. Either way, he's not expecting Bruce's reaction.

Bruce takes one look at Tim, and then he slaps him. 

Tim pulls his head back straight from where it's been knocked to the side. He raises one hand to the side of his face, his cheek already smarting. Bruce glares down at him not even looking remorseful.

After that, it gets worse fast. Bruce hits him four times on day seven, and on day eight, Tim feels constantly on edge, which is not aided by Bruce's constant looming- and the fact that every small transgression earns him a shove or a slap to the back of his head or a crushing grip on his arm.

Tim hides in his room for most of day nine in his pajamas, thinking. While for the first few days he had entertained the idea that this was something he deserved, he quickly puts aside that line of thinking. Bruce, and his siblings, have done their best to drill into his head the fact that he did not deserve his parents' treatment of him, and, though he has difficult days where he doubts that his parents were wrong, he has come to learn that Bruce and the rest of the family is right. 

So that's that answer out. Tim allows himself to sink into logic. Bruce's behavior has suddenly changed towards him. Bruce doesn't act like anything's excessively wrong when they go on patrol and the others are around. 

Bruce's behavior started when Bruce was dosed by Ivy. Cursing, Tim bolts upright, his mind racing. How can he have missed it? Bruce's strange behavior, everything, can be explained by Ivy. 

They keep the antidotes in the Cave, but Tim keeps a small supply up here, in his room. Well, less of a supply than one he had been looking at one day before bed. Hunting through his desk, Tim finds it. He smiles. He knows exactly how to fix this. 

When he emerges, Tim notices that Bruce is down in the Cave. Even better. He traipses to the kitchen and finds a glass, then makes the protein shake that Bruce drinks every night before patrol like clockwork. Then, carefully, he empties the antidote into the glass and stirs the shake around. Hopefully the smell and taste will mask the extra ingredient. 

Tim carries the glass down to the Cave. As he enters, he clears his throat, seeing Bruce sitting at the computer, his suit already on but his cowl off. As Tim approaches the computer, Bruce spins around, his eyes hard. Tim's eyes slide past the man, and he freezes when he sees the video playing on the computer. It's a security camera feed of the kitchen, and it's looping a video of Tim emptying the antidote into the shake. 

Slowly, Tim sets the glass down on a nearby table. He takes a step back, hands raised. He swallows, opens his mouth to start speaking, but before he can, Bruce snaps, "So, that's it? You finally showed your true colors? Finally did the one thing I can't forgive?"

Tim almost laughs hysterically at that, because he can think of a few things that Bruce probably wouldn't forgive. The older man continues, "You betrayed me. You tried to drug me, for who knows what purpose. Who are you working for?"

This snaps Tim out of his silence as he vehemently protests. "Bruce- I- you  _know_ -"

He doesn't get a chance to finish. Bruce lunges for him, one armored hand going around his throat and slamming him against the Cave wall.

And that brings Tim back to the current situation, a full nine days after going after Ivy. He tugs at Bruce's wrist with both his hands, terrified in a way that's been building for weeks but that he'd never thought he would feel when he looked at  _Bruce_ , of all people, and tries to gasp out- what? A plea, an attempt to reason with the man, an apology? Tim doesn't know at this point.

Bruce snarls at him, face twisting in rage and a look in his eyes that's normally reserved only for criminals. "I asked you to do  _one thing_ , Tim. One! And you couldn't even manage that. You couldn't even manage to not stab me in the back after all I've done for you. Unbelievable. I should  _never_ have made you Robin."

Tim blinks up at the older man, his hands stopping their fighting and simply grasping at Bruce's wrists. That isn't- he isn't- Bruce  _knows,_ okay, he knows that Tim's worked for this, that Tim was doing what he could- and to throw it back in Tim's face like this?

Somehow, this hurts every bit as much as the bruises that color Tim's body. Bruce pushes tighter against his throat before suddenly releasing him. "Pathetic. You're useless to me. Get out."

Tim stares at Bruce in shock as the older man begins to walk away. His words echo in Tim's ears, echoes of the words his parents used to speak to him. He had never thought that his career as a Bat would end the same way his relationship with his parents had- filled with harsh words and bruises and a sense of something disgusting coiling in his gut, heavy and shame-filled.

Bruce suddenly turns and takes a menacing step towards Tim. "I told you to get out!" He yells. He takes another step towards Tim, and-

Tim bolts. Fear flares inside of him, and every instinct is telling him to get out  _now_. He runs up the stairs, taking them two at a time, but he's no match for Bruce's long strides. Even as Tim turns down the hall towards his room- the closest one he knows that has sufficient protection to keep Bruce from breaking through the door for even a few minutes, which would give Tim time to initiate the protocols he's had set up since the third time Bruce hit him- a heavy hand closes around the back of Tim's shirt and hauls him backwards. 

The boy is lifted into the air and he reaches a hand up to steady himself as he swings from Bruce's grip. He tries to jerk away from the enraged man, but Bruce's angry face, mere inches from his own, is inescapable. Tim's aware his breathing is coming harsh and fast, but he can't beat it into submission. Bruce sneers out, "Can't even find your way to the door? Fine."

Suddenly, Tim's tossed back onto the ground, landing harshly on his back. The air rushes from his lungs even as he's hauled back to his feet by a hand fisted in his hair. Tim is half-dragged, half-carried to the front door, stumbling as he tries to keep up in an effort to relieve some of the pressure from his scalp. 

The front door opens, and Tim's tossed out into the chilled night air. The cold begins to seep through his t-shirt and thin pajama bottoms almost immediately, but it's nothing compared to the way his gut clenches painfully as Bruce tosses a parting, "You have two minutes to get off the property before I turn the intruder protocols on," over his shoulder as he shuts the door. Tim would like nothing more than to continue staring up at the Manor as he tries to collect his thoughts, but he knows he needs to leave  _now,_ because if he's on the property when the protocols go off there's a good chance he won't make it through the night.

Tim bolts towards the gate at the end of the driveway. Just as he makes it past the gate, a loud bang sounds near him, and he drops to the ground instinctively. Just because he knows that the sounds are fake, mean to simulate a mine's explosion and simply throw off an enemy's hearing and balance, it doesn't mean that it doesn't bring back too many memories of gunshot wounds to not be startling.

 Slowly, he hauls himself to his feet and begins to make his way towards Gotham. The only thing he can think to do is head for a safe house. He's got one set up that not even Bruce knows about- or does he? Tim stops in his tracks. He can't take the risk of Bruce waiting there, not if Bruce knows where the safe house is and knows that Tim thinks Bruce doesn't know, because Bruce would know that that would be the first place Tim would go.

Tim can't deal with this right now. The only thing he can think to do is make for a rooftop and hope Jason or Damian- Dick's in Bludhaven right now- come across him. Surely they'll know what to do, right?

Tim resumes his weary walk, the moon his only light. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: some thoughts of child abuse and discussion of it and Bruce's actions in the first chapter

Jason comes across the kid while he's meeting up with Damian as they're preparing to get ready to stop a drug deal over at the docks. They're meeting on a rooftop halfway between their territories, and he's just landing on the roof when he sees it. Him. Tim.

The kid's curled up against a chimney with his arms crossed protectively over his chest. He's not in uniform, though, which makes the whole situation that much more worrying. Rather, he's in a faded red t-shirt and a pair of thin sleep pants, and even in his sleep he's shivering. Gotham's winter hasn't quite set in yet, but fall is in full swing and nights around here can get cold. 

Jason hears Damian land quietly on the roof behind him, the only sound the crunch of gravel that he's sure was intentional. The younger boy comes to stand beside him, arms crossed as he too gazes at their younger brother. "What on earth is Drake doing here without his uniform?"

Jason rolls his shoulders in an uneasy shrug. Something about this isn't sitting right with him, and even as he watches, the kid twitches in his sleep, muttering under his breath before his head sinks impossibly lower on his chest and he subsides back into an uneasy rest. 

"Let's find out," he says, half to himself, as he steps forward to shake Tim's shoulder. He makes his footsteps louder than necessary, knowing that waking up a Bat without warning is asking for a solid punch. The moment he gets within three feet of Tim, though, the kid's head snaps up and he jerks backwards, his arms coming up to form an 'x' in front of his face as though he's trying to shield himself from a blow. His head tucks to the side, and his feet push against the gravel as he tries to shove himself further back against the unyielding bricks of the chimney he's leaning against. 

For a moment, the only sound is Tim's panicked breaths as Jason and Damian try to process what they've just witnessed. Jason drops into a cross-legged position, knowing that whatever's got the kid spooked like this won't be helped if he's just looming over him. The older man sends a glare at Damian until he, with a slight roll of his eyes, also drops to the ground in a position similar to Jason's.

Jason pitches his voice low as Tim slowly begins to lower his arms, speaking the same way he does to frightened kids when he has to rescue them and feels a wash of relief that he didn't wear the Hood tonight. "Hey, kid, it's just us. I promise. You remember us, right?"

As Tim looks up at Jason, his eyes strangely unfocused, Jason feels Damian suck in a sharp breath from next to him. Jason feels sick to his stomach before the familiar burn of anger begins to churn in his gut. The harsh lights of Gotham throw Tim's face into sharp relief, and they outline his skin perfectly.

Painted in varying shades of purple-yellow-green-blue are a multitude of bruises. A ring of them sit on his throat, and by the looks of it, they were made by someone much, much bigger than Tim. There's the outline of a fist on Tim's face, a livid bruise going from his cheekbone to the corners of his mouth and taking up almost the entirety of his lower left face. More bruises peek out from underneath the short sleeves of his shirt, and around his wrist are clear, finger-shaped bruises, as if the kid had been grabbed in a crushing grip. Edges of older bruises peek out form underneath the newer ones, show on his sides as his shirt rides up a little from his movement. Bruises that can't be accounted for by patrol or clumsiness- although Jason thinks Tim might try for the latter excuse if he were asked.

Jason knows he needs to do something. He shifts into a crouch, keeping his hands up and visible at all times. He keeps his movements smooth, but slow enough that Tim can easily track them, even with his eyes still scarily detached. It takes him by surprise when Tim moves, launching himself at his older brother and enveloping the older man in a bone-crushing hug as he seems to do his level best to burrow into Jason's chest.

Tim's momentum knocks Jason back on his butt, but he simply holds Tim as the youngest breathes in a strange, wet way that tells Jason the kid's trying not to cry- whether from relief or fear, he can't tell. Jason looks over Tim's head at Damian. The younger boy looks taken aback at his younger brother's behavior, the lenses in his domino stretched wide. 

Jason makes a decision. He stands, gathering Tim with him and holding him bridal style. The fact that the kid doesn't protest, just grips Jason's leather jacket even tighter drives home the point that the youngest is not doing well.

Jason nods to Damian. "Send the info on the bust to Gordon and B. One of them can handle it. It's quiet tonight. Get my bike and bring it here, then meet me back at my safe house. The one from a few nights ago."

It's the work of a moment for Damian to obey the first part of Jason's instructions, and he vanishes to get Jason's bike. Jason, meanwhile, heads towards to the fire escape and carefully makes the trek down to the alley it leads into. Once he's down there, Damian arrives moments later with Jason's motorcycle. Together, they position Tim in front of Jason, one of Jason's arms around his chest. Once they're both situated, Damian disappears again to grab his own bike.

* * *

Jason spends the short time waiting for Damian to get to the safe house checking Tim over for more injuries and making him a cup of hot chocolate. He spreads a blanket around the kid and is relieved that, once he's somewhat warmer, the shivering abates and then stops. By the time Damian's changed and quickly showered to wash the stench of patrol off and Jason has as well, Tim's started acting more responsive.

Well, he's at least aware of what's going on around him. He's staring at the floor like he's hoping it'll swallow him whole, but at least it doesn't look like he's trying to audition for the part of just-out-of-the-grave-Jason Todd. 

Bad joke.

Jason sits across from Tim on the coffee table. Damian hovers nearby, his normally aloof expression replaced by one that anyone who knew Damian would call 'concern'.

Jason reaches out to place a gentle hand on Tim's shoulder. To his relief, despite an initial hard flinch at the contact, Tim doesn't shrug it off. Rather, he leans into it with a kind of hungry desperation. Jason says, keeping his voice low and soft, "Can you tell us what happened, Tim?" 

Tim mumbles something. Jason ducks his head, trying to catch the younger boy's eyes. "Didn't quite catch that, kid."

Tim looks up at Jason, his eyes flickering to Damian for a moment and then back again. Damian takes one, two steps forward to sink onto the couch beside Tim, making sure to still give him enough space to make him comfortable. "We will not judge you, Timothy."

That seems to do it. All of a sudden, the dam breaks, and a story comes pouring out. A tale of hurtful words and hurtful actions, hidden carefully from others, a story of loyalty and betrayal and a kid who thought he deserved it but  _doesn't know what he did wrong_. A story of a kid who's sure he hasn't messed up this time, not badly enough to warrant this, surely?

Tim looks at the ground as he speaks. "B's been- more violent, lately. But just towards me. Do you remember like a week and a half ago, when we ran into Ivy?"

Jason and Damian make sounds of affirmation and Tim continues. "B got dosed with something and I think Ivy thought one of you guys were with us, or maybe Dick, but when she saw it was just me she just kind of shrugged and said something about it being 'good enough'? I don't know. Anyways, B just  _dropped_ when she hit him with whatever it was, and it was really scary because I thought he was dead for a minute. And then I got him back to the Cave and he was waking up and I thought he was just being- you know, mad because we hadn't caught her."

Tim takes a shaky breath, swallows hard. "A few days later he was still snapping at me. I couldn't figure out what I did wrong. And then I asked for help on a case and then he just- he  _hit_ me. Slapped me."

Tim glances up and shrinks into himself when he sees the look on Jason's face. It's obvious the older man is furious. 

Damian kicks Jason in the shin. Not hard, but the kid's  _strong_ , and it still hurts. His face is impassive as he says, "Your anger will not assist us in this situation at the moment, Todd."

Jason holds the brat's gaze for a second before looking back to Tim. The kid's watching them with wary eyes, and if that doesn't bring back memories of Jason's own crappy childhood-

He rolls his hand, motioning for Tim to continue his story. Tim obliges, his voice quieter. "After that, it just kind of- escalated, I guess? He kept getting mad about smaller and smaller things and, like, the weird thing is he never threatened to bench me but whenever I patrolled with other people and him or we were in the Cave with other people he acted like everything was normal. And then I figured out what was wrong today, and tonight I tried to slip an antidote for Ivy's poison into a drink for him, and I guess he was monitoring me, and he just accused me of betraying him. And then he just snapped, and I promise I wasn't trying to hurt him and I was just trying to _fix it_ -"

It's Damian that cuts the kid off this time. "Timothy. You do not need to convince us. We believe you."

Strangely enough, the short reassurance seems to calm the kid down. Of course, it's probably aided by the way Damian's moved so their arms are pressed together, a surprising show of closeness from the member of the family that's normally the most stand-offish in terms of closeness. 

Tim continues, rubbing his hands together slowly, unintentionally bringing attention to the way his wrists are ringed in bruises the shape of fingers. 

"I'm positive Ivy dosed him with something that night. There's nothing else I can think of that would make him behave this erratically."

Jason nods, running a hand over his mouth. "I agree. Damian, call Dick. We need him here to help us figure out what to do."

Damian stands, going to grab his phone from the kitchen. Jason turns back to his youngest brother. They sit in silence for a few minutes, listening to the low murmur of Damian's voice coming from the kitchen before Jason speaks. "Tim," he says, voice quiet, "I just need to ask you one thing: why didn't you tell anyone, especially when it got really bad?"

Tim huffs out a stilted laugh; the sound is brittle, like glass about to shatter at the slightest pressure. "I didn't- I kind of thought it made sense, you know? Like, everyone's finally back on good terms with the family, Bruce is back from being lost in time, and I just- I'm not needed anymore, right? Like, yeah, I make things easier, and I do work that other people can't do as quickly or something, but I'm also taking up time and space and I kind of thought B had just finally gotten fed up."

Jason's not sure what to say other than, "What made you change your mind?" 

Apparently Tim's got issues. Well, more than Jason was aware of. This is cemented further in his mind as Tim replies, "Because B might've gotten tired of me, but he wouldn't- he wouldn't just lay into me like that. The last time he was this violent was back when you-" And here Tim stutters, chancing a look up at Jason before continuing, "Y'know. And that was only towards criminals. And by the time I got my head on straight and figured it out, I thought I could fix it myself."

Jason leans back, unsure of what to do with that information. He studies Tim as the younger boy hunches further in on himself. Jason remembers when he first went to live with Bruce, sure that at his first transgression, or his second, or his first big one, he'd be punished. He remembers thinking that maybe he'd deserve it, to disappoint someone like Bruce. The older man quickly dissuaded him of that fact. 

Tim's parents might've been less physically abusive than Jason's dad, but less isn't the same as not at all, and they certainly fostered an attitude of self-reliance on Tim from an early age, to put his situation mildly. 

Jason sighs, rubs a hand over his face. He's opening his mouth to reply, still not really sure what to say, when a voice from the doorway startles both him and Tim. "Tim, you know we're here for you, right?"

Both boys glance over at their older brother, who's walking into the room in civvies. By the looks of it, he's heard most of the last part of the conversation. Tim shrugs. "I know, I just- sometimes it's hard to remember, you know?"

There's a pause in the room as Dick sits down next to Tim on the couch. His face is tired and drawn, and it's obvious he's had a long day. Still, there's a warmth in his tone that's so uniquely _Dick's_  that makes Jason remember why he looks up to the older man, why their relationship was one of the few he wanted repaired after his return to the family. Why he gets along with him better than Bruce, most days. 

Dick says, "I know. But the important thing is that you do remember. And I know I've messed up in the past, especially when Bruce was gone, but I promise I'm here for you, okay? You can come to me, to us, with anything and we'll help you. That's what brothers are for."

Tim glances up at Jason, who grins tiredly at him, a barely-there upturn of the lips, and then at Damian who nods once, solemnly. 

Tim exhales. "Okay," he says. "Okay."

Dick looks around at them. "So now that we're all on the same page, let's make a plan," he says. 

Damian steps into the room and sinks down by Jason's legs, resting his back against the coffee table that Jason's still sitting on. Tim begins to speak, laying out further details of Bruce's erratic behavior and patterns he's noticed. Damian leans in, face intent as he listens. Dick's gaze, though his posture is relaxed, is no less analyzing than his younger brother's, and Tim's voice is clinical and precise as he talks. Jason smiles. It's time to do what they do best.

Save someone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I ended up splitting the original draft of this chapter into two parts because I felt like it was a little long. This chapter and the next are both over 2k though, so neither will exactly be 'short'. I hope you enjoy this! 
> 
> Also sorry it got kind of fluffy towards the end LOL


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not going to lie, the lack of comments has been a little disappointing, but since I do not comment on 100% of the works I read I understand. Also I appreciate all the kudos and the comments I do get, so thank you!
> 
> This chapter was exciting for me to write and probably my favorite written chapter so far!

Tim stares up at Bruce, his breath catching in his throat as the older man looms over him. He can't help but remember the last time they were face to face- his bruises throb painfully under his shirt, and even with Jason's reassuring hand on his shoulder and his brothers' strong presences behind him, he can't help but flinch violently as Bruce motions to him with obvious disgust. "What is he doing here?"

It's Damian that speaks. "He's just here to collect some of his stuff."

It still feels weird to hear Damian's voice, still carrying the formal manner of speaking from his childhood, say words as casual as "stuff," but that's far from the most uncomfortable part of the situation. 

Bruce frowns. "You have an hour. No more."

Tim nods, the motion jerky and barely there. He turns, trying to keep his breathing calm as he feels his brothers implementing the next part of their plan. 

As he makes his way to his room, he can hear his brothers talking with Bruce. The man's tone is normal, light, even, and it further cements in Tim's mind that his hypothesis is correct. Bruce is definitely being affected by whatever Ivy got him with. 

Tim reaches his room. Opens the door, then shuts it. Then, employing the stealth he's spent years building, he slips back down the hallway. He reaches the study and carefully opens the entrance to the Cave, flinching at the small noise the clock makes as it swings shut. Once in the Cave, he abandons all efforts to silence his steps, knowing no sound will reach the Manor from below. He dashes for the antidotes they have stored in the med bay. 

Frantically, knowing his brothers will only be able to stall their father for so long, he rifles through them until he finds the antidotes for Ivy's more potent poisons. Fortunately, she seems to stick to the same basic formula with only a few tweaks, all of them plant based, so an antidote based on the severity of the poison works on all of the poisons in that severity range. Hesitating for a moment, he grabs for the "extreme" level. 

It's the highest level they have.

There's only two other antidotes for that level left other than the one in his hand, and Tim absently notes that once Bruce is back to normal, they need to restock this. It never hurts to be prepared. Turning, he prepares to slip back upstairs. 

And runs face first into Bruce's chest.

Tim stumbles back a step. He pushes away the instinct to drop into a fighting stance, instead keeping his stance non-threatening. He holds his hands up, the antidote still clutched in one hand. "Bruce, this isn't-"

Bruce cuts him off. "What it looks like? Because it looks like you're trying to steal from me."

Tim swallows and weakly counters, "Does it really count as stealing if it's for you and your own good?" 

Bruce ignores him and growls back, "You're trying to steal from me after I let you back in here out of the kindness of my heart, after I told you you weren't welcome here. After I made it clear in no uncertain terms that I'm finished putting up with your uselessness."

And oh, if that doesn't have Tim hearing echoes of his parents. He knows that reasoning with Bruce in this state is useless until he gets the antidote in him. He asks, quietly, "Where's everyone else?"

"They went to go find you in your room. I knew you'd be down here, though, trying to do your worst to mess something up to get back at me, and I wanted to deal with you myself. I locked the entrance, so they can't interfere with you learning your lesson. They're too soft towards you."

Tim knows then that he has to act fast, because it will take his brothers a moment to realize that Bruce is down here with him, and the older man is obviously on the verge of snapping. His only hope to get out of this without any more injuries is to take Bruce by surprise. He lunges for the older man's thigh, knowing that going for the neck is a very bad idea. 

As it turns out, going for his thigh is going to hurt just as much. 

Bruce sweeps the younger boy aside with a powerful backhand. Tim rolls with the blow to minimize the damage he takes, but he still hits a nearby bed with enough force to cause him to drop the syringe. Bruce crushes it under his heel, and Tim curses. He has two more chances, and he needs to make them count. 

He doesn't have a chance to strategize, though, as Bruce is striding towards him. He may be dressed in civilian clothes, but the man's posture is completely Batman. As a strong kick comes towards his head, Tim waits until the last moment, then rolls to his feet and ducks under Bruce's fist. His adrenaline kicks in, and suddenly Tim's in the most intense sparring match of his life- except this time, the consequences will be much more than being set to drills on his technique if he fails. 

His fighting style is normally one of evasion- let his opponent tire themselves out, then strike. However, this time his opponent is a man who's powerful enough and trained enough to get through that defense, so Tim falls back into what's always come most natural to him- he becomes a mixture of all of his brother's fighting styles.

Bruce throws another fist towards his head, heavy and dangerous. Tim flips out of the way, spinning through the air as he lands in a crouch by the entryway to the med bay. He hears echoes of Dick's voice coaching him how to land without hurting himself. A back handspring and he's put a good amount of distance between himself and Bruce- and the med bay. 

Bruce growls, producing a batarang from a pocket. He hurls it with deadly accuracy, and Tim barely dodges it. His left ear stings, and he raises a hand to it, fingers skimming over the new notch on the top of his ear. Bruce runs at him, already spinning into a kick that Tim hurls his arms up to intercept. His feet skid backwards as he takes the full force of the blow, trying to disperse the force the way Jason taught him.

Bruce takes a menacing step towards him, and as Tim tries to slip past him again, the older man clamps a hand down on the boy's right shoulder, wrenching him backwards. 

Tim grunts in pain as he feels his shoulder almost dislocate. Bruce changes his grip to Tim's lower arm, forcing the injured appendage higher, and Tim knows he needs to get out of the grip before the black dots that are dotting his vision become all consuming- there's a real chance he won't wake up if that happens. 

Tim twists his body in a way that's going to hurt later due to strained, stretched-too-far muscles, but it's better than death. He manages to kick his foot out at Bruce's ribs, and it distracts the man enough that Tim slips free. He races towards the med bay, eyes fixed on the shattered cabinet with the remaining antidotes left on the ground. Bruce's fingers grab at the back of his shirt again, and Tim hurls himself around with a desperate kick, only to find his foot caught as he's lifted into the air. He's dangled there for a moment, eyes level with Bruce's stomach, before he's hurled towards the med bay. 

Tim rolls through the glass littering the ground as he comes to a stop. His hands are littered with cuts, and he spares a moment- but just a moment- as he pushes himself to his feet to wish for the reinforced leather and kevlar of his Red Robin suit. Bruce looks faintly surprised as Tim drops back into a fighting stance. 

Jason's not the only one that knows how to take a hit and stand back up. Tim's  _life_  before Bruce had been a battle, mentally more than physically, but blows were thrown. Survival of the fittest, and the weak are forgotten.

Tim's not weak. He beat his enemies. He  _lived_. 

He grins, sharp-edged. He knows his teeth are bloody. His ear is still dripping. There are cuts on his face and arms. 

He is a ready to defend himself. He won't take this lying down. He's going to help Bruce. He's a  _Bat_. 

Bruce rushes at him. Tim's adrenaline spikes, and he ducks under an arm, spinning to the side before going for Bruce's back with the syringe he had palmed when he was thrown into the glass. He jabs, quick and accurate, in a move that's purely Damian. 

Bruce catches his hand just before the needle punctures his skin. Slowly applying force to the younger's wrist, Bruce forces him to drop the syringe to the floor, where it is yet again crushed by Bruce's foot.

Tim curses. There's only one more dose of the antidote left. Bruce still has his arm in a vise-like grip. 

_Where are his brothers?_

Bruce lifts Tim off of the floor by his wrist. The bones grind together painfully. Tim grunts in pain. Bruce draws his fist back, and Tim barely has a moment to think  _this is going to hurt_ before the fist impacts with his stomach.

Tim curls into himself as much as he can while dangling two feet off of the ground. Hazily, he wonders why Bruce insists on doing so many bench presses all of the time. No one needs to be this strong. No one. Not even Batman. 

He's literally shaken from his thoughts by Bruce. The teen sways as Bruce brings him closer to his face. The older man's lips pull back in a sneer. "You keep fighting. Why? You can't win."

Then he throws Tim to the ground. Tim barely manages to roll to the side before a foot comes down with a force that surely would've snapped a few ribs. Shakily, he goes to a crouch, one hand on the ground to steady himself, the other, the injured one, pulled close to his chest. He manages another grin. "Yeah, maybe I can't win alone, but they can help."

Bruce turns to look behind himself, where Tim's gaze has strayed. Jason, Dick, and Damian are dashing down the stairs. They must've finally gotten through Bruce's measures to barricade the Cave off from the rest of the Manor, and Tim kind of wants to cry in relief. He's not fighting this fight alone anymore. 

His grin is wiped off of his face as Bruce pivots, throws a kick quickly enough that Tim can barely get his arms up in time to cover his face, and knocks Tim back a good ten feet and sending him rolling to a stop against the cabinet again. 

He lies there, dazed, dark spots swimming insistently through his vision as the sounds of a fight grow behind him. He knows, intellectually, that the only way he's held Bruce off this long is pure dumb luck, and the fact that Bruce wants to make him suffer before he permanently hurts him. Or- not Bruce, but the poison that he's been dosed with. 

He never had a chance alone. But with his brothers-

Tim pushes himself to his feet again. He staggers, holding his ribs, bracing himself against the shattered remains of the cabinet. At his feet, he spots an unbroken syringe. The last one of the kind Bruce so desperately need right now.

Tim bends down to pick it up and barely makes it upright again. Dimly, he processes that the fight outside the med bay is close. He drags his head upwards, meets Jason's eyes, who's glanced over at the younger boy. He nods, once. Jason doesn't respond, just turns his attention back to the fight and yells out, "Now, Damian!"

In a more practiced version of Tim's earlier lunge, Damian jabs at Bruce, who stumbles as the blow connects at his lower ribs. Jason and Dick are on the older man in a moment, forcing him down to his knees as they immobilize his leg with their own. Damian grabs his father's head, struggling to hold it still as Bruce fights, jerking his body side to side. Looking up, the older teen shouts at Tim, "Now!"

Tim, who's by this point made his way almost to the scene of the fight, pushes himself forward and jabs the needle into the spot he knows there's a vein. He doesn't have time to be gentle. Already, Bruce's struggles have loosened Jason and Dick's holds on the older man, and Damian's starting to run the risk of accidentally breaking Bruce's neck if the older man doesn't stop struggling. 

Tim depresses the plunger. 

Bruce slackens almost immediately. Damian releases his father's head while Jason and Dick allow their grips to loosen. 

Bruce's head snaps up, and Tim stumbles back a step, then two. Bruce launches himself at Tim, tackling the teen around the midsection. 

They go down in a heap, and Tim panics, realizing Bruce has gone unconscious, Unfortunately, this means Tim's got well over two hundred pounds of muscle on him, and it's getting hard to breathe. 

Panicked hands pull at Bruce, and Tim can faintly hear voices talking to him, at him. By the time Bruce is off of him, Tim's succumbed to the darkness that's been calling him for a good time now. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will probably take a little longer to come out because I don't have very much of it written, haha.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for all the comments on the last chapter, I'm happy people liked it! This is the last chapter for this story, but hopefully not the last story in the series.

When Tim wakes, it's not sudden or shocking or even especially painful, or any of the cliches found in hospital shows with too much drama. Rather, he slowly opens his eyes, awareness coming back in waves, as well as a pleasant haziness that tells him that, while he's on some form of painkiller right now, his injuries are going to hurt later.

Such is life as a teenage vigilante. 

Tim props himself up on his forearms, surveying the room he's awoken in. It's his own room, and, as the previous- day's? Night's? Week's?- events come back to him, he realizes that it's probably because the med bay- and the Cave, most likely- is too trashed to have a patient in. 

He's starting to sit up more when his door opens and Bruce walks in. Tim freezes, staring at the man. He's got an expression on his face that Tim can't quite read, and that's making Tim nervous. Too nervous. 

Bruce takes a step forward, his arms swinging up from his sides, and Tim jolts back against the headboard of the bed, arms crossed in front of his face, IV tugging out from the crook of his elbow with a pinch and blood left in its trail. Bruce freezes, says something, but Tim can't focus on anything other than the sound of his own breath wheezing harshly in and out.

Bruce backs towards the door, and more voices begin to sound. Tim still can't focus on anything other than the thought of  _get out_ , and as soon as Bruce's body removes itself from the room, he's out of his bed and shoving desperately at the window in an attempt to open it and get out onto the roof. He's been on it often enough that he's confident in traversing it, and he knows six routes manageable in the state he's in now that will lead him to the ground.

Tim's got one foot out the window and the other well on its way to joining it when strong arms grab him and pull him backwards. Tim panics, thrashing in the unrelenting grip, before he processes who's holding him. 

Jason's even tones, filling the air with a steady murmur of nonsense, begin to filter in through his panic. "-Shh, it's okay, it's okay, it's just me, kid, just me, you're okay, shh, I've got you-"

Tim cuts him off, his voice only a little shaky. "Jason?"

Jason turns him around, slowly loosening his grip. As Jason replies, Tim's eyes slide over the older man's shoulder. Through the crack in the door, he can see Damian just outside, and, past him, Dick talking urgently to Bruce in low tones. Tim's eyes find Jason's gaze again and he shakes his head. "What'd you say?"

Jason repeats his words again, and, for a moment, he most absurd thing about the situation is that he's doing so without a sarcastic comment. "I said we got Bruce the antidote. He's better now. You were right- it was whatever Ivy dosed him with."

Tim's shoulders slump in relief. He knows-  _knew-_ that that's all it had been, but there's still a visceral sort of relief that comes with knowing that it wasn't something he did, wasn't  _him_ that had caused Bruce to act like that. Then his actions a few moments prior catch up to him, and he slumps in Jason's loosened grip. "...Did I really just flip out like that?"

Jason huffs out a laugh, releasing Tim fully. "To be fair, I don't think anyone will blame you."

Tim grins back, shaky and a little unsure, but a grin all the same. "If you say so."

"I do say so."

The pair stand there for a minute, before Tim sighs, his gaze darting out past the door, past Damian, coming to rest on Bruce. "Can I- can I talk to him?"

Jason eyes him shrewdly for a minute, then nods. He turns to get the older man, ruffling Tim's hair as he goes. "Shout if you need anything, okay?" 

Tim nods, and sits back down on his bed. Bruce walks in, leaving the door wide open. Both Tim and Bruce pretend not to notice the other three boys in the hallway, far enough away to give them privacy, but close enough should Tim panic again. 

The two sit in an awkward silence for a moment before Tim breaks it. "So... sorry about earlier, I guess." 

Bruce laughs, short and sharp and not very real. He pushes the heels of his hands into his eyes for a moment, then drops them and says, " _I'm_ sorry. I should never have- I didn't mean-"

Tim breaks in. "I knew it wasn't you. Like, after a few days. And I knew something was up before then, I think, but I didn't really consciously think about it for a few days."  

Bruce still looks frustrated with himself. "But I hate that even for a few days you thought I might actually hit you. That I would treat you like that, even without anything- anything physical." 

Tim tilts his head to the side, thinking. "I know that. Some days are just harder to remember that than others. My parents- I don't like talking about it." His voice gets softer as he studies the back of his hand, rubbing a mole. "After I started working with you, for real, and especially after you adopted me, I started to realize they were wrong, About a lot of stuff. But it's like- it's like I'm a wheelbarrow. And I was traveling the same path for years and I made a rut, and then you helped me get out of that rut. But sometimes I go back over the rut and I get stuck for a little while, and I need someone to help me out again, I guess. And this whole thing just happened to happen when I was getting stuck in the rut again."

Tim pauses. "Did any of that even make sense?" 

Bruce smiles, a real smile this time. "Yes."

Tim hesitates, then goes with his first impulse. He hugs Bruce, and after a moment, Bruce hugs him back. Tim remembers his childhood. His father had hugged him one day, a camera flashing behind them. It had been stiff and awkward, and Tim distinctly remembers how his parents had left that night after whatever party they were at. They hadn't returned for two months, and the next time they were home, Jack had hit him for the first time. 

The first time Bruce gave Tim a hug, Tim had been stiff and awkward and afraid, but Bruce hadn't left, hadn't hit Tim when he messed up. Instead, his hugs had always felt safe and comforting. They were what Tim had imagined a dad's hugs were like when he was a kid.

Bruce staggers as something impacts his side, and he looks over to see his eldest son grinning at him, a reluctant Damian laying his hand on Bruce's back. Jason laughs, then squawks as Bruce drags him under his arm.

Surrounded by his family, Tim smiles.

They're going to be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't sure about the group hug but then I was like, you know what, fanfiction is for what I want and I want a group hug. So sorry if it got a little sappy, but eh.
> 
> Also idk how many of you guys wanted this to be longer, and tbh I kind of did as well, but I felt like if I made it longer it wouldn't flow very naturally. I wanted to show how Tim's relationship with his parents was different than his one with Bruce, and tbh I don't subscribe to the whole "Batman totally goes around hitting his kids" canon in a recent comic. -.-
> 
> Anyways, I hope you enjoyed, and if there's something you thought I could improve, feel free to leave a constructively critical comment below!
> 
> Thank you for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> let me know what you thought!


End file.
